Stardust

While living in London there have been times when I have been tempted by an early bed and an easy evening. But there is a pulse that runs through the city. If you listen carefully you will not miss it. And if, as it must be, you are called, then you fail the call it at your peril.
“If not now then when?”
This should be etched on every key and sinew if you want to live here. This evening I have had the priceless gift of the intimacy of strangers.
Earlier today a man who went by the name of David Bowie passed. As the day progressed I was surprised by the swell of feeling both abroad and in myself.
Throughout the course there have been snippets and sound bites. By this evening moving and well crafted tributes were being given voice.
I noted on the BBC that two sites of vigil were emerging locally. First Brixton, where a large crowd gathered adjacent to a popular mural.
Second a smaller affair comprising notes, flowers, and candles. Presented between two doors against a wall in Heddon Street.
Now I don't usually do this sort of thing but... It was to the second that I took my modest candle, and head bowed commendation to The Great Moo Moo. Probably no more than thirty people at the start. We stood for a few minutes of respect and then magic happened.
Some genius started playing Major Tom through the public address system on the street. As the long familiar tune was renewed, hearts and chorus swelled among us and suddenly there were no strangers. We were among friends.
For the next two hours we danced, sang, and relived.
Then someone came out with a guitar and lifted it to another level.
Every lullaby a diamond work of genius.
Good night Starman.